


Fitted Together

by kmdmsh



Category: Project Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, POV First Person, Uncertainty, daily reminder to not make fics while youre sleep deprived, ive been pulled into therius hell and i cant get up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmdmsh/pseuds/kmdmsh
Summary: They are but two pieces of a jigsaw - insignificant details that make the bigger image. It’s this tiny fact of how they slot together as if they’re meant to be that builds this piece to completion.Though they may match as well as any other puzzle piece, Cyrus - ever curious, ever questioning, ever uncertain - still wonders if this kiss is Therion's way of ensnaring him to a more diabolical plan or his way of opening his heart.





	Fitted Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when your friend, brother, and in-law bombard you with far too many cute relationship headcanons while subsequently trying to pull you into ship hell. (You guys know yourselves. I love you but. Hyuck.)
> 
> Oh! And before I forget. I'm basing some things off from @octopathtravelersreact on tumblr’s posts, specifically this one: https://octopathtravelersreact.tumblr.com/post/175404359346/kissing-headcanons-for-the-eight-playable .

The moment you lean in is where all the confusion starts - an epiphany of questions that I thought would never surface in the sea of a thousand more whose mysteries I would rather solve. The distance between us is enough for me to see you clearly, to _f_ _eel_ you clearly. I can see the fire that dances in your eyes the same way your magic does between your fingertips, I could feel every breath you take and give while your hands trace intangible things on my palm, on my arm, and everywhere else that they could reach. Just being close to your face is enough to send my heart aflutter - is that what they call this feeling? When something deep in your chest seems to be soaring, wanting to fly off without a moment’s notice? I know not. I care not. My mind falls to how close we are, nothing barring the way. The beat of your heart accelerates when I brush over your chest, feeling every bit of the thumps - too fast for the average heartbeat. What more if the proximity between ours is non-existent? Will your heart beat faster until it jumps out?

 

What about me?

 

_Will I fall to my knees, so weak at your touch just as you’ve said? Would I faint and never wake again, like you think I would?_

 

(I hope it’s not the latter. Your touch keeps me grounded, stuck in this place without any chance to escape. Is this a trap, too? Are you keeping me between your supposed love and affection just to steal my wits and my riches? I hope not, I pray not. You’re too good for that, aren’t you?)

 

A question bubbles from the depths of my throat, one that you simply snuff out by diving in, eyes coming to a close and stealing my thoughts away with a simple gesture - a quick, yet accurate placement of lips.

 

And it burns. Just with that. Just like the flames that take everything in its grasp and never backing down. It burns, yet it doesn’t hurt. It leaves me numb and the questions are all but fiction at this point, the only thought in my head being _you_. You, of all people — you who would prefer the shadows to the light of day, you who would prefer the frigid cold than the warm days.

 

You who would be miles away from us — right there, but not at all.

 

(So why? Why do you entice me so? Is this truly a beautiful lie I am living in, one that you spun yourself for whatever reason? No. You are not capable of such, no matter how many acts of thievery you’ve done. Even you have your morals and baseless lies are not your cup of tea nor is it anything you would openly turn to. If it was so, then you could have spun tales to hide the scars that stretch across your skin and the wounds that cover your heart. No, you are simply far too good for that.)

 

Various things are happening in my stomach the moment your own land on mine: some knots that I can’t untie but never be displeasing, those butterflies people always talk about to no end, and that dreadful feeling of fear resting at the bottom of it all.

 

To tell you the truth, _I’m afraid._ Afraid that this is simply a trick of the light, afraid that this is just another one of your acts of thievery, afraid that I’m being taken advantage of in this weak state of mind, where my thoughts are a blur and the only thing clear right now is you.

 

(Please. Please tell me it’s not so.)

 

Nothing stops you from returning, from coming back and I justー

 

_ーIs it wrong for me to wish for this to last forever? To have our lips connecting some kids jigsaw puzzle. To actually just have you at arm's length for once?_

 

_Can this perfect moment just last? Gods. That’s all I ask. Is it a sin to ask for such of you? Is it too much to make that a request? Am I even in my right mind to ask you of such?_

 

Air. It’s becoming a need again. I can barely breathe. I pull away, chasing oxygen while _you_ chase _my_ lips. As much as I’d like to give in, it becomes too much. Too much, even for me.

 

"Therionー"

 

Another, then another, never landing in the same place from before, avoiding my lips as you bring me closer and closer and _closer_.

 

Then you pull away just for me to see everything.

 

… Somehow, you’re looking lovelier than ever despite your hair still being a mess like always and your lips drew into a fine, thin line as if you didn’t lose any of your own air — but maybe you hadn’t for you’ve already stolen mine? Is this another one of your thieving acts?

 

You sigh and trace the outline of my mouth and whisper into my ear, "That wasn’t so bad."

 

Silence. Not a sound but from how loud my heart thumps at my chest — an unnatural phenomenon, a thing of both beauty and uncertainty. I claw at, rest my head on your shoulder as I get my bearings. You never say anything, only ever letting your hand rest over the small of my back while I encircle my arms around you.

 

I still feel like I’m in a dream.

 

"Cyrus?" You call. I raise my head, meet your eyes for a moment before dropping my head once more. "... What’s wrong?"

 

"I don’t know. I just want." A pause. "Reassurance. That this is real and not a dream. That this happened. And to simply just... hold you close. To have you here."

 

”Are you flirting with me, Professor Albright? Scandalous. What would the people think that the famed scholar Cyrus Albright is wooing the master thief?”

  

I laugh and comb my fingers in your hair, still a tangled mess. Knots, here and there, and it somehow matches the knot I have down there, at my stomach (weird as it sounds). "That’s all you have to say? After all that?"

 

"Hey, I’m not as eloquent as some people you know. Academics and I never mixed well."

 

"On the contrary, you speak quite well. Well enough to get my attention and befuddle my thoughts like this."

 

You fidget, mutter something under your breath, failing in keeping up the strong personality you built for yourself to keep away others. "You're insufferable as ever."

 

You’re blushing. Red covers not only your cheeks - you’re red all over, from your ears to your neck. In this moment of weakness, under the starlit sky that stretches for miles, I finally can understand what affection is. In a sense. It’s seeing you during your worse, the moments that you never show to anyone else - that underlying trust that you give to someone. For you to let me see your weakness, for you to show me a side of yours that no one else has seen, I feel. Joyous. Proud.

 

In love, mayhaps.

 

No, there are no mayhaps. For you to show me yourself and for me to smile at your true colours, for me to wish for you to stay. Those are feelings of love, of affection, of a bond so deep. That’s love, yes? Or am I simply deluding myself from your actions, still intoxicated from your touch, your words, and your actions? If it’s the latter, I don’t mind. Though a poison runs in my veins from your doing, I’ll gladly make it my undoing.

 

”Really, though. Did I..."

 

A pause. A passing thought.

 

"... Did I push any buttons?”

 

”You pushed me to realize that I love you.”

 

The red in your cheeks grow darker in shade — a shade I thought could ever be possible for humans to have. “How are you saying all of these things?”

 

I could only laugh. It’s a mystery to myself, too. One I would rather keep it as that.

 

We pass the moment in silent exchanges — touches, here and there and your lips ghosting over my form. It does not last long, like everything else.

 

But I would pray we could be here for longer, stay alive for a few years more so we could still do this, no matter how brief each meeting could be. That would be enough.

 

Your mouth opens in the slightest as if you’re about to say something. It opens and it closes, again and again for minutes on end. Each time, your eyes would flicker away from me, then return only to look at somewhere else. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s uncertain of all this.

 

A relief, really, for I know that I’m not the only one tumbling in the dark. At least, even if we are lost, we could be. Together. If you would have me. If you’d let me walk with you to find our way through the darkness.

 

"Cyrus."

 

"Yes?"

 

I wait for your words.

 

Then, I _hear_ it.

 

_“Frozen heart, frozen soul; by your glance will be no more._

 

_“Your presence fills the void - a pitch black hole of nothingness - with colours like that from the jigsaw puzzles we fit together with our fingers and our hearts._

 

_“They are all different in shape and hues and details, but they fit well with each other nonetheless. Like us.”_

 

I.

 

Burst. Stutter. Crack.

 

Your words shake me to the core and everything comes flowing out, like a dam that’s finally open and releases the mass of liquid building up within. Everything is rushing through me, makes me want to just keep you for myself. That’s too selfish, though. All I can do is hug you, as close as I can, and smile. There’s that familiar thump in my chest and think. _Is that my heart? It’s going too fast as if it’s about to fall out._ Isn’t this the tell-tale sign of it all: the beginning of something more than just comrades, the start of something that I thought could never be. (I still remember your words before, of how I could never find love the way I am now and here I am. Truly. Did you think this all through? Did you set up all these events beforehand for me to fall in love with you? One thing’s for certain: you’ve succeeded.)

 

"Finally using your words for something else other than spite?"

 

Your nose buries deep into the crook of my neck. Laughter escapes your lips - authentic laughter, not the tiny little huffs that you would use in exchange for joy-laced giggles. "Again. Not all of us are born in posh manors and raised with actually decent education."

 

"I suppose you're right," I mutter. My hand finds yours and entwine together, never letting go. They fit perfectly together, your hand fitting mine as if they're made for one another. "Though that's still no excuse for you to not use your wit on anything else but anger and melodrama! That was a beautiful piece you've thought up earlier - one that could put every other song of great renown to shame!"

 

"Gods, can you just shut up for a second?"

 

I pull you back, let eyes meet and your forehead to rest on mine. Still pink from the cheeks to the ears, not a hint of melancholy in your eyes nor did your brows pinch together in annoyance. My hands travel from your hands, over your arms and rest on your cheeks. You never move back, instead, you do the same - the tips of your fingers would dance from my shoulders to my jaw, featherlight in your touches as if to tempt me further into your arms. (You needn't do that for I'm already deep in your clutches.)

 

When your hand finally finds its place on the side of my neck, I let the words drop from my mouth.

 

“My apologies, but I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

 

I take you in a kiss once more to tell all of my love for you.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, apologies if it’s not the best. Don’t hesitate to send me ang error fixes or comments about my work! Have a good day folks and thanks again for taking the time to read this.


End file.
